And the World Listened 17
by dragonFELL
Summary: His entire life had been a prolonged battle to prove to the world that he was more than his father's image. And this is just another battle he'll have to fight to prove them all wrong, and make the world listen. Bramble/Squirrel.


**AN: Full author's note parked at the end. This is my entry (numbered 17) for Scarheart of DarkClan's one-shot contest****; it takes place just before the end of Sunrise, and is slight AU-ish if I'm using the term correctly.**

**And the World Listened 17**_  
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With one sentence, uttered by the cat he had once believed was his daughter, the entire world spiraled out of control: "We are not the kits of Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight."

With one sentence, everything changed._  
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It was all he could do to keep the barriers of his heart from crumbling—the only defense from the dark shadows of his father and half-brother, waiting for their chance to pounce and take over. To reclaim him from the light, to bring him where he truly belonged: darkness, evil, _hate._ It was in his blood, after all; what could darkness beget, besides more evil and hatred? He had been running from the truth for his entire life, struggling to pull himself free of the claws of heritage, yet in the end it came to this. The world did not deem him worthy.

It was a turmoil that he was accustomed to feeling—this feeling of _not belonging._ He didn't belong with ThunderClan. He belonged with his father, in the Dark Forest, with the rest of the accursed. Yes, _accursed—_that was what he was. Not Brambleclaw, deputy to ThunderClan, father of three ThunderClan warriors, mate to the daughter of ThunderClan's leader.

Only now coud he can see the facade he had created, the lie that his life had become. _Everything for ThunderClan—_but that wasn't true, was it? He was only pretending—pretending to be the perfect deputy that he could never, ever be.

He remembered feeling like this before, as a kit nearing six moons of age...

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><p><em>Fire.<em>

_It had sent him crawling backwards onto the edge of a dying tree's branch, clinging for life as the living plumes of flame scorched his fur and drowned out his cries for help. It seemed an eternity of heat and terror before _he_ came—he of the pelt that blazed with a fire of its own—and snatched him up from death's frolicking tendrils._

_His name had been of fire, too—Fireheart, deputy of ThunderClan._

_How he had looked up to Fireheart then—the flaming cat who had saved his life. Yet even with such blinded eyes he could see the fear and mistrust within his idol's green eyes, the hatred lurking behind that emerald gaze._

_What had he done wrong?_

_It was his mother he had gone to—she who had protected him from those glares with raised hackles and silent challenges. His mother, not the idol with the flaming pelt, nor the father he had never known_.__

"_Why doesn't anyone like me?" A pause. "Besides you and Tawnykit, I mean. I don't think anyone in the whole world likes me."_

"_Because you have to make them listen first," were Goldenflower's words. She rasped her tongue along the entire length of his body—calm and reassuring, as she had always been. "Be the best at everything you do, Bramblekit—then maybe, the world will listen."_

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><p>He had lived by those words for the rest of his life.<p>

Training to earn his warrior name. Bringing in every piece of prey to be found in the aftermath of Bluestar's death. Proving over and over that he was worth listening to. It was at this point in life that he realized that his father, Tigerstar, was the reason why the others had looked so mistrustingly at him—and he had proved them all wrong in that, as well, by proving his loyalty to the Clan. He had rejected his father when he was given the chance to join TigerClan, hadn't he? That should have been enough to convince any cat that Brambleclaw wasn't his father's son.

And even then, the world demanded more. Only a deaf kit wouldn't be able to hear the whispered words of the gossiping elders, forever chattering about his father's image.

Next it was fulfilling a prophecy, the one that took him and five others away from home to find Midnight. He had to fight then, too—for Crowpaw's grudging respect, for Squirrelpaw's stingy obedience. And it had paid off when they all looked up to him as leader. They looked up to him just as he had looked up to the idol with the flaming pelt and the forest eyes. They had paid for that prophecy with a life: Feathertail, who would never return home from the mountains. It was he who had to encourage the rest of the cats, to remind them that there was a home that they had to return to.

Still the world wasn't satisfied. They were still afraid of him, he _knew_ it with his entire being. What more would it take?

How he had _hungered_ for the position of deputy, once the four Clans had discovered their new homes around the lake. How Tigerstar first visited him in his dreams—and his insidious words of power and ambition. How Hawkfrost had tricked Firestar within the merciless Twoleg trap, strangling the fire out with each passing heartbeat—and how he, Brambleclaw, proved himself to the world yet again with the simple act of choosing. And he had chosen Firestar over Tigerstar.

He thought that would be the last time he would ever have to prove himself. He had ThunderClan's respect now—and above all, Squirrelflight, daughter of that flaming idol. How headstrong and reckless she was, how courageous and beautiful. And their kits—three miraculous bundles of life granted by StarClan. What more could he ask for? Goldenflower was right, and the world was finally listening.

How very wrong he was.

It wasn't that Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf weren't his kits anymore. Nor was it the shock that Leafpool had broken the warrior's code with Crowfeather. It was that Squirrelflight had lied to him—lied for so long. Why couldn't she have trusted him? He was trustworthy, wasn't he? Hadn't he proved that, over and over again? Why couldn't they see that he could be trusted, no matter who his father was?

That's what it was, wasn't it? His father. Who could trust anyone of Tigerstar's blood?

It was here that he realized that he was no longer in ThunderClan's forest.

Brambleclaw glanced around, trying to quiet the discomfort he felt. Was he being summoned to the dark forest again? _But I'm not asleep._ And the place he found himself in was warm, bright, even comforting—nothing like the dark place that his father and half-brother now resided in. Even so, how like Tigerstar it would be—ambushing him in this moment of weakness. He could almost hear his father's voice, whispering in his ear: _It's not too late to join us..._

"Is something wrong?"

_It's her._ No voice could have fazed him half so well as her's. _It can't be. She's dead—_"N-Nothing's wrong," he muttered. He took a deep breath, then turned to face a pale golden-furred she-cat, her amber eyes glimmering with concern.

"Grown warriors shouldn't have to lie to their mothers," Goldenflower scolded. Her mew showed no sign of her old age, and when she padded forward her muscles flowed as smoothly as any young cat's. "All of StarClan were watching that Gathering, Brambleclaw."

"You knew all along," the brown tabby hissed accusingly, taking a step backwards, "didn't you? StarClan knew that Leafpool and Crowfeather, they..." He forced his hackles down, remembering that this was _Goldenflower_ he was talking to. His beloved mother, who had protected him from the world. "I'm just... confused. That's all."

"She'll ask for forgiveness, you know," his mother mused. "Will you find it in your heart to give it to her?"

Could he? He let a few agonizing heartbeats pass before letting out a single breath: "No. I can't."

"She did it for her sister—"

"Did you love Tigerstar?" The question came from nowhere; it escaped his mouth before he could even stop to hear himself. "When he was exiled from ThunderClan for what he did—could you still love him after that?"

"That's not the same, Brambleclaw."

"I know it isn't. I just need to know."

Goldenflower let out a sigh, sitting back on her haunches. Just when he thought she wouldn't answer: "He was always so brave," came the whisper. "So reckless. I always admired that in him—and when he was gone, I... I had you and Tawnypelt to worry about." Her chin lifted almost challengingly—just the way he remembered, when she protected them both from anyone that dared see the evil of Tigerstar lurking in his kits. "I couldn't keep thinking about him when I had to convince the Clan that you two were nothing like your father."

"You made yourself forget." Would Squirrelflight forget him too, over time? Maybe that was for the best...

The elder didn't respond; her eyes were glazed over and distant as she continued quietly, "He forgot _me._ The day he was exiled, he called for followers to join him—Darkstripe, and Longtail... why not me?"

Brambleclaw had never understood the world, and he never pretended otherwise. Leafpool and Crowfeather, his suspicions of Lionblaze visiting the dark forest, Ashfur's murder... What could a simple warrior do, but stick to what he knew best? He wasn't a father. He wasn't a lover. How could he comfort his dead mother of an ache lasting so many silent seasons? How could he—

"But that's in the past." Goldenflower's mew was tired, although the starlight continued to wash her ghostly fur in an aura of death. "You're more than Tigerstar ever was, Brambleclaw. You worked hard. You made the world listen, and nothing can change that. I'm proud of you—you and Tawnypelt both."

_To make the world listen._ The words that defined his entire life came back to him from that day in the warmth of the nursery in ThunderClan's old camp in the forest. "The world knows Squirrelflight lied." It was harder than he could ever have guessed before, to even say her name. "The world knows that I was a mousebrain, for not finding out earlier. Nothing can change that."

"If you truly believe it so," Goldenflower murmured sadly. She climbed slowly to her paws, closing her eyes as her image started to blur, to disappear."We all make choices, Brambleclaw. It's time to make yours."

And then she was gone.

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><p>"Brambleclaw."<p>

A soft-spoken mew that cut straight to his heart. She sounded so—so _weak._ That wasn't the Squirrelflight he knew. The Squirrelflight he knew would raise her chin, puff out her tail, and demand his attention whether he liked it or not. Who was she, this pitiful, skinny ginger she-cat with the downcast green eyes? "Brambleclaw, we need to talk."

He didn't answer—only stared off into the distance at the lake, painted orange from the setting sun. It was almost like fire.

_We've gone through so much._

_She lied to you_.

_But we—_

_She _lied!

"Brambleclaw, please." The crack in her mew was impossible to ignore; he blinked at the creature cringing before him. Her once-bright ginger fur, now plain and dull with no living flame flickering underneath. Her once-proud gait and composure, now downtrodden with defeat. _I did this to her,_ he realized sadly. He had rejected her in front of the entire world, hadn't he? And words, unlike claws, could never be taken back.

Could they?

"Isn't the lake beautiful?" Squirrelflight looked up, her green gaze momentarily confused—until she cast her gaze at the water, and immediately understood. "Midnight is lucky," he continued, remarking on the mysterious badger that lived near salty waters. "The sun-drown-place must look like this every sunset."

"It would," the ginger she-cat agreed. "But Brambleclaw, I really have to apolo-"

"It's like fire," Brambleclaw overrode her loudly. Long ago, Squirrelflight would have attacked him verbally for daring to interrupt her—but now she patiently backed down. As if she had done something wrong, when in truth she was as innocent as the confused kit that he had once been. "Fire destroyed ThunderClan's old camp once. Your father saved me."

"I know. The elders used to tell us about it."

"We had to rebuild the entire camp. The world—WindClan, ShadowClan, RiverClan—said it would be impossible." Brambleclaw forced himself to drink in Squirrelflight's image, to harden his eyes. "Isn't that what the world is saying now, Squirrelflight? We'll never bounce back from this, will we?"

"I-If you say so-"

"But they were wrong," Brambleclaw interrupted. "The fire _didn't_ destroy ThunderClan. Everything grew back, stronger than ever. We proved the entire world wrong." He thought, then added, "And they looked like mousebrains, once we came back as strong as before."

Was that a faint mischievous glimmer in her green eyes? "It was hard, though, wasn't it? Proving the world wrong. I bet Tigerstar-" She froze, realizing her mistake. Her mouth formed the beginnings of an apology, but Brambleclaw wouldn't let his father destroy anything ever again.

"I bet Tigerstar was planning to invade right after he learned about the fire," he joked. It surprised him, to see how easy it was to actually talk about his murderous tabby—and realized that it was because Squirrelflight was the one listening. "Can you imagine the look on his face?"

Her chuckle of laughter was a breath of cool air, cooler even than the beautiful lake blazing like fire before them. "I'd love to see that."

"You will," Brambleclaw vowed. "No one will think that we'll ever remain together, after all this. But we'll prove them wrong. We'll make them listen. Even Leafpool—she said she won't be a medicine cat anymore, right? We'll train her to be a warrior, you and me together, so she won't be left out." He took a deep breath, marveling at his energy. Was this Goldenflower's work, again? "And one more thing."

_Why am I doing this?_

"You ask for a lot," Squirrelflight purred. _That's the Squirrelflight I know._ "What's next, o mighty Brambleclaw, taking over the entire lake?"

_For Goldenflower._

"That's next," Brambleclaw promised. "But first..." His voice grew serious. "I don't care that they're not my kits." No need to say who _they_ were; both of them already knew. "None of that matters. I won't leave you, ever—no matter _what_ the world says."

_Because I won't be Tigerstar. I won't leave my mate, ever._

"And I thought you'd say something important." Fire blazed again in Squirrelflight's eyes as she aimed a playful cuff to Brambleclaw's ear. "I already know that, you stupid furball."

"I had to make sure you knew it," he defended himself slyly. "Given that you never see anything unless it's right in front of you—" _That_ earned much more than just a clout; they tumbled tail over head in a scuffle for the first time in seasons. Only once they had spent all their energy did they sprawl out beside the lake, panting heavily from the playful spar. "So it's settled, then?" Brambleclaw breathed. "Us against the world?"

They didn't have to confess their love. They already knew.

"Of course. I won't let those fleabags stop _us._"

_The world still isn't listening,_ Brambleclaw thought as he watched Squirrelflight shake the mud of the lakeshore from her ginger fur, _and maybe it'll never listen._ Perhaps Leafpool would never bounce back from this blow—and perhaps this bliss was short-lived and ephemeral, doomed to fail. That was life.

But none of that mattered, did it? Goldenflower had listened to him, so many seasons ago; as a half-grown kit, she had been his entire world. And now, the world was listening—because Squirrelflight _was_ his world.

**End**

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><p><strong>Alright. I'm not sure who I should be apologizing to, but I'll do it anyways: I'm so ridiculously sorry for my extreme procrastination in this entry, posted on the last day (and at around 9 pm! *-*). I did sign up for the contest rather early, and had worked on my entry for a while - but just a week ago I realized that everything I had written was utter garbage. So I present this random BramblexSquirrel one-shot, which I hope is <em>less<em> garbage than what I had written before.**

**I think it's strange that I keep sympathizing with Squirrelflight. I don't even like her. :/ I'm sorry that the 'romance' is such trash here. As you can see, I don't do romance. Yep. But thanks for reading anyways, and good luck to all other participants. :)  
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